


Piece Me Together

by Darksinokaru



Category: One Piece
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Bottom Zoro, Caring/Supportive Zoro, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Falling In Love, Forming of strong bonds, Growing Together (emotionally), Healing, M/M, Romance, Uke Zoro, aftermath of rape, trust building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-29 21:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksinokaru/pseuds/Darksinokaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro tried to save him. He really did. But in the end, all he could do was be there for him.</p><p>Sanji/Zoro</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! To warn, this is a heavy fic, as it deals with rape and the emotional torment afterword. However, it is ultimately a fic about recovery and triumph, of moving on. It will end happily and Sanji and Zoro will have come together over the course of the events within this fic. This kind of fic is a very personal one because I myself am a victim of childhood sexual abuse and rape, so I'm not writing this willy-nilly just because it sounds good, in case anyone has an issue with that (for me fics like this are therapeutic). Though honetly, people who do research and write stories like this I think are totally fine, as it keeps issues like this in the spotlight. Especially with the growing trend of trying to make pedophilia "normal" and therefore "okay" or finding some way to excuse the adults that prey on children. If I wasn't so shy and had the know how I'd be a fricking activist to raise awareness to the horrors of pedophilia. I'm not gonna get into that here though. I've said enough.
> 
> Anyway, this fic is ultimately a feel good fic by the end, but there's lots of heavy angst and emotional trauma that is worked through. So, there we go. I wanted to warn. This fic like I said though, does end happy! I hope you guys enjoy, just be ready for the heavy content. But it will have its sweet and endearing moments (at least I hope I portray them well enough)
> 
> I do not own One Piece or any of its related materials.
> 
> https://youtu.be/Xu1xmOX32L0

The blood had been shocking as it seeped in thick red. It was not that strange, seeing blood. It was the context, context changed everything. Because he was not new to bleeding, to open wounds, to having his flesh torn. But this, this was different. Why had he not listened?

A dark eye looked at him, staring at his body with a mix of pure shock, shock and horror. To think he had the nerve to look upon him that way when he _knew_ it had been going to happen. He had said so, had tried to warn him. But he hadn't wanted to listen, not to Zoro, not the most irritating man he had the displeasure of spending daily time with.

He tried to lift his arms to get out of the position he had fallen into. His pale flesh looked stark white, glowing in the rusting ceiling light dangling above them. There was no protection from that gaze as it moved over his body, stabbing into his broken dignity. What was the point in crying about it? There was nothing left, it was all over the place. It had been ripped from him hours ago and shredded to pieces.

Zoro moved, cautious and slow as he untied his sash. The flash of the vibrant red caught his eye and Sanji felt his insides roll with nausea as his heart twisted violently in his chest. A sudden surge of adrenaline shot through him and he gasped, eyes snapping open wide as the swordsman shrugged out of his green jacket. He stumbled back, barely stifling the cry that broke from the back of his sore, dry throat when he landed backward on his ass. The bolt shot through every open pore and seared every nerve of his suddenly shaking body. His eyes darted around them frantically, and as Zoro inched closer-careful, trepid, he scrambled backward from the other man. It was a panic he could not describe, he didn't even know what it was that shot through his brain, but the last thing he wanted was to have anyone around him. It was not shame, it was a fear, an unreasonable fear, lacking all logic. It was not of Zoro being kind, not of him having seen what had become of him, it was a fear of everything around him, it encompassed his entire world in just a few short seconds as it jolted through every fiber of his being.

“Cook.” Zoro's voice was low, careful as he remained where he was, crouched on the dirty floor and stretching out his arm, offering out his coat. Hot, it burned in his eyes and his heart rocketed painfully through his chest, and he felt the molten lava seep from his eyes as he tensed, muscles winding painfully tight everywhere. Sanji gasped and curled in on himself as he gripped his face with both hands, his hair falling forward to obscure the very obvious fact that he could not stop it. The horror of it all as his quiet sobs grew louder and his shoulders shook. There was a crunch of dirt under a shoe and he gasped, his entire body jerking but not scrambling away like his head told him to. A heavy cloth settled over his shoulders, Zoro's jacket. His heart eased, though not near enough in its slamming as the weight settled over him and he felt the air no longer brush so easily over his naked and battered body. Slowly, his hands reached up and gripped the edges of the coat before he tugged it down, sliding it forward over himself. His grip was shaky, and it felt frustratingly weak… he felt weak. He had not been able to protect anything, not even something as simple as his dignity. He had not been able to save himself from harm, from the brutal, sick attack that had commenced. Why hadn't he listened to Zoro? He felt a hand on his shoulder and another crunch of dirt under Zoro's boots.

“Cook, can you walk?” he asked quietly and Sanji stared down at the floor, covered in dirt and straw. He was in some old, abandoned factory. He deserved this, didn't he? His lips trembled as a horrible ache pulsed into his chest, filling him up beyond what he felt he could bodily hold, and there was nothing there but darkness. Darkness filled him, heavy and all consuming. Sanji, after a long moment, gave a wordless nod, though he was far from certain he could walk. He felt the swordsman's hands on his upper arms and he wrapped an arm around the larger man's shoulders as he struggled to stand. His knees wobbled in weakness and a bolt of sharp pain lanced up his spine when he rose only a couple feet from his knees on the floor. His body collapsed, but Zoro caught him before adjusting himself to be better used as a crutch. Sanji grit his teeth, frustration and anguish whirling up inside him as he struggled stubbornly to stand. He was more successful, though he found himself having to take it slower. Once he was standing the blonde leaned heavily against the swordsman's bulkier frame, glad for the sturdiness of it. Zoro wrapped his arm around his upper back and secured his hand under the his left armpit as he held onto the swordsman tightly with his other arm. Zoro walked slow, feet taking small steps, but the pain that stabbed up into his body had the blonde struggling to make his feet move. He stumbled more than anything else with each stab and burn that assaulted his senses. They reached a half rotten, wooden pillar and Sanji reached for it, which he was then guided to and he leaned against it as Zoro released him.

Zoro grabbed his red sash and buttoned his coat over the blonde to keep his body hidden. After that, he fastened the sash around his waist and readjusted his swords against himself. Sanji stared at the green-haired man, watched as he stood there-shirtless on a chilly night, his scar somehow looking more pronounced than ever before. Not that he was probably cold. Not like he was; he was freezing, while at the same time, he burned hot inside. He refused, he would not look at where he was, he didn't want to. It would just remind him, bring it bearing down harder on him than ever before. So he stared hard at the swordsman, focusing solely on his movements before Zoro straightened to his natural gait and their eyes met.

“Motel.” His voice, it was just barely above a whisper, and broke apart, just like everything else. Zoro nodded and the two reassumed their positions so that the swordsman could help him walk on his own. It was difficult, and painful, but there was no way he was going to just let himself collapse again. He would not humiliate himself with that, he had been humiliated enough. And he did not want to cause Zoro any more trouble. Why hadn't he listened? If only he had listened! That would haunt him more than anything. He just knew it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The motel was quiet and still dark as they moved through the small room to the bathroom. As soon as they had reached the front door after the purchase of the room for the night, Sanji had begun to rush. He stumbled more, causing Zoro to quicken his steps and carry him to some degree. It was so disgusting. As he had stood at the swordsman's side, silent while he got the room, he noticed the itch. He was covered in filth, from head to toe, and the more he thought about it, the worse the itch got. His nausea rolled with more violent force and he felt it in his face as he turned from the desk and staggered out the door. He heard Zoro's voice call for him before the hot, rancid roll of illness exploded from his mouth just as he bent over around the corner of the door. It was awful, the rancid smell, the taste, the burn, and the first emptying of his stomach was followed immediately by a second. He grabbed the side of the door desperately; his quaking legs were going to throw him to the ground, and probably right into his own vomit. Strong, calloused hands grabbed him and he gasped, a surge of panic assaulting with ferocity and he gasped sharply through a wheeze and choked on his vomit. The hands grabbed his waist and a voice whispered to him, strong but gentle, comforting.

“It's okay. It's just me here.” Sanji felt the molten lava in his eyes and it burned viciously as his mouth twisted with the coming of another sob. He stomach still felt volatile and the desire to sob was overpowering. It had nothing to do with what he wanted to do, his subconscious was dictating what actions he body took.

“Sorry about the mess,” Zoro said to someone, probably the desk clerk as the blonde clasped his left hand over his stomach. He could feel it building, readying to explode again. After that they had moved quickly to the motel room, and as soon as he made it to the bathroom, the swordsman lifted the toilet lids and he heaved out his stomach into the water. It was silent for a long few moments before he heard Zoro speak, though it was incredibly difficult to hear over the ringing in his hears as he blinked blurry, useless eyes around him. All he could tell was that the light was too bright, reflecting off the white toilet in front of him.

“You want me to run the shower?” He was numb for a moment. He couldn't form the actions he needed to answer, he couldn't speak. But then his body caught up with his mind, sluggish and weak as he nodded. Zoro walked around him and after a moment, he heard the shower run. He shook, hating the hot heat building up in his eyes. This was probably, without a doubt in his mind, the worst possible thing he could have experienced. And it was because he had ignored, rejected Zoro's concern for his well being. Though, of course, it had sounded crazy; since when had the swordsman become some kind of lazy prophet? His stomach felt calmed from the raging war within and he sat back, feeling relieved as he looked down and started to pick at the buttons covering up the bruised, bleeding his mess his body had been left in hours ago. The toilet flushed and the blonde caught the swordsman's hand pulling from the lever before he moved away to the entryway into the bathroom. His fingers were frustrating, weak and shaky, even numb. It was difficult to undo the buttons, why couldn't just one thing work?! Frustration assaulted him, frustration that quickly bloomed into anger and he nearly grabbed the coat to tear it off with violence. Hands, warm hands touched his and he froze, his frustration suddenly melting from him and leaving in its wake absolute exhaustion.

He looked up and met Zoro's gaze. The larger man crouched down and started to pop the buttons free and the blonde let his hands fall to his sides. It was useless to try to do anything on his own, wasn't it? The buttons came undone quickly and Zoro pulled the jacket off his shoulders. Nude once more, Sanji turned toward the shower and lifted himself to stand, but his knees quivered and he collapsed in a glorious crash on the bathroom floor, sending sharp bolts of pain through every nerve ending he had. Zoro was quickly there, picking him up like he was a child. A helpless child, a nuisance-he was in the way, he knew it. He was moved into the shower and he slid to the back, under the spray, and sat there with his back pressed against the corner of the shower. He pulled his long legs to his chest and laid his head down on his knees as his arms wound around and hugged the extremities. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to think, he didn't want to do anything. The water was hot, and he was glad for it. It made it somehow more relaxing, drowning.

“Do you need anything else?” Sanji slowly shook his head, like an upset child. The heat raged behind his eyes, threatening to burn them out if he didn't let it flow down his face. The sharp, spearing pain filled and pulsed in his chest as he gripped his hands into tight fists. He just wanted to disappear, to not be looked upon by Zoro like this, a pathetic, misshapen man.

“Call me if you need anything. I'll check on you,” the swordsman informed and then he heard the shower curtain close. He grit his teeth, fighting against it. He didn't want to, he didn't want to do anything, least of all make all the noise and expend the energy required of the sobs that wanted to break free from his throat. But he couldn't stop it, his shoulders jerked as the sobs started to break from him, slow and quiet at first, but then they were grew louder, and more frequent until he was shaking and sobbing under the hot spray of the water. Alone.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Zoro was in the main room, moving from one side to the other, pacing. He paced along the same line, his boots scraping the wood planks as he moved. He tucked his head down, eye staring out but not seeing any of the detail under him. His heart beat hard as his frustration unfurled and grew hot in his chest. He had hoped, he had tried. But he had failed. Why did this have to happen? What reason could there have been? He swore that he would protect his nakama, swore that he would be in their defense should harm ever present itself. And as much as the cook pissed him off, he had vowed that when the blonde had dismissed his fears, that he would do whatever it took to keep it from happening.

He finally stopped pacing, and settled heavily on the edge of the bed as he leaned forward on his thighs, head down in shame of his failure. To think Sanji would crumble like this, that he would see the most obstinate, pain in the ass with his big, foul mouth and nasty attitude be cut open and skinned, to be left bare and broken. There had to have been a reason why he had known it would happen, right?

Zoro could still clearly remember with horrifying clarity, the nightmares. They had started weeks before this. It had started pleasant, another pleasurable dream with the cook spreading him open and filling him repeatedly. But then, some dark cloud had come rolling in around them. Panic had assailed him as the inky blackness covered everything, he couldn't see anything, not even the cook, but the thrusts continued as if the blonde had noticed nothing. And then, Zoro dropped, through the surface he was on, down through a sky of thick black clouds. He fell, unable to move, unable to do anything as he fell. He hit the ground and it had terrified him until he realized that he was standing, clothed. He heard something awful, the most gut wrenching of sounds. He had heard pain, he had heard sobs of pain before, but this, this was something so gut wrenching, so twisted and full of intimate pain. He ran forward and hit the doors in front of him, the only thing in front of him even though they had not been there just a moment before. Zoro grabbed for his swords as they were always by his side, but he found he lacked his weapons. He was naked, and very acutely, he realized he _was_ naked. The sounds grew more desperate, as if the person, the man, were being gutted slowly as he watched. At least that was somehow the image that the swordsman found in his head. He kicked at the door, viciously, as hard as he could. The desperation only increased and the panic that hurled him forward only grew more frightening until the door smashed open, wood splintering apart and scattering into the air with a terrific crack. He did not need to run in; inside, in the middle of some old fish factory, was the cook. He was bloody, covered in it, bathed in it. He was sobbing, naked, and the closer he looked, the more he realized that the blonde had been sliced everywhere.

Zoro had woken with a horrifying twitch. He took not a second to climb out of bed and stumble down to stare at the cook in the lower bunk. He was sleeping peacefully with his pillow in his wrapped arms and only haphazardly under his head. He was fine, but the erratic pulsing of his heart had the swordsman sitting on the floor, trying to calm his breath as he switched from staring at it to staring up at Sanji.

Just a nightmare, he had thought. During his mid afternoon nap, it had come again, though the second time it had played out with a different view. He dreamed he was the one to assault the cook, to rape him, cut him open and watch his insides peek out from under slices to bloody skin. And when the door burst open, he was faced with the horror stricken, naked version of himself. That dream, had made him physically ill when he woke. He decided to not sleep the following night, to just meditate and try to push it all from his mind. He held no such desires to hurt the chef in that way; in fact, it had been a fancy for himself imagining the cook taking him with passion and want. He thought, perhaps his mind was too wrapped up in the nightmare, and so he had relived it.

But the next time he slept, having finally relaxed, he dreamed again. He did not dream of being the rapist other than that time. But he dreamed once that he was in Sanji's place. And then he relived the first nightmare over and over. Some things changed, like not having his swords, though they had turned to sand at his feet when he had cut his way into the factory. Sanji wasn't always cut up either, but there was always a disgustingly bright red pool of blood around the blonde. And only once was he dead, staring up with an open, blank stare.

Something was going on. Zoro did not know what it was, but after so many times he needed to tell someone. The others were noticing that he was not sleeping well, that he couldn't concentrate, that he had lost his appetite. Even the cook had gone out of his way to make something special for him, he was the chef, after all, and he took their health seriously as far as nourishment was concerned. But he still could not rest, he could not relax. So he had made the most difficult decision he had found himself having to make in a very long time, and after cornering the cook alone in his space, in the galley as always, he told him that he feared something was going to happen. He didn't know why he felt that way; magic, psychic power, all things of that nature were not real, he had never seen any proof and did not believe in such things. But he didn't know what else to do, especially when in his dreams, he found himself wishing fervently that he had said something. So, he did.

The cook had just stared for a long moment, shocked, and then perplexed. Instead, the blonde had focused on the part that… he probably should have omitted; the part about being fucked, but he hadn't really been thinking much on that really. He should have, because the cook dismissed him entirely and told him to not share such “gross” things in the future about him. Naturally, he grew angry, had demanded that he listen because he had, somewhere along the line, become convinced that it was going to happen, maybe it was from lack of sleep affecting his brain, or maybe he was having one of those psychosis things. But the blonde just laughed it off and kicked him out of his kitchen, literally.

But it turned out he had been right. The first thing he saw when they got to the docks was an old fishery and his world had stopped a moment as a deep, heavy dread settled in his bones. He had looked directly at the cook, but he was too busy fawning over the women. So he vowed to stay close, to keep an eye on him. But after a fight, and the cook taking it upon himself to rag on him for his “disturbing gay dreams”, they had stormed off. When next he was with the group, he realized the cook was gone, and he had rushed straight the fishery. And there he had been, not exactly like his dreams, but really, it was almost exactly the same.

Zoro ran his hands over his face, wishing, and kicking himself for having been so stupid. So what if the cook had said something so offensive, he was offensive to everyone but women on his best days. Sure, it had made him angry, and though he had not wanted to admit it, not really, it had hurt.

A weight settled in next to him and the swordsman jumped and looked up over to see Sanji sitting there, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. His expression was difficult to read, but it was obvious that he had been crying in the shower. The chef dropped his hands into his lap, it was silent a long moment.

“You were right.” His voice was quiet, rough, and it broke up a little in that statement. He sounded horribly hoarse. Zoro swallowed nervously, his heart kicking inside his chest painfully.

“It's… it's okay though. I… I get it. You were worried about me,” he whispered loosely before a pause, “I should have listened. And I shouldn’t have said all that mean shit to you. I didn’t really mean it, you know. I was surprised, but pretty flattered.” He paused again and leaned forward as he buried his face into his hands. Zoro felt his heart pulse faster and he felt immediate war between pleasure at such words, and frustration for all that had happened. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling, as he sat there next to his nakama.

“I should have listened.” The cook’s voice trembled and tightened, indicating the coming of a sob. “But I didn't because you were… well, you.” He fell silent and the swordsman felt his heart twist sharply in his chest in pain. The tension grew in his body and Zoro felt his eyes heat. He had not cried since he had been a kid, not since Kuina had died.

“I… didn't want you to get hurt. I was... scared,” he admitted with gravity and then the silence stretched on, echoing the swordsman's confession in a turbulent quiet.

“Thank you.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He did not want to go back to everyone, not yet. Zoro did venture back to the Sunny to get him clothes. At first he had attempted to lie down-but he was anxious. His heart kept racing, and twisting, and the longer he lied still, the greater the frustration built up, until he felt ready to either cry more or violently break something. Why? Why did this have to happen? His body, it ached, it burned, it felt dirty, soiled, despite his shower. He didn't know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't wait for Zoro to come back. He wanted him back, right then, even if all they did was just sit there and talk about Luffy, or how paint peeled. He just… he didn't want to be alone. But he didn't think his body could handle the walk back to the docks to get Zoro, which not only took him right passed that fucking fishery, but to his nakama. He couldn't face them yet. He needed some time, he needed to grasp something within himself, he needed to find something that had gotten cut off somehow. He didn't feel like himself, he felt alien.

In the end Sanji pulled a chair to the window and opened the curtain. It wasn't completely dark yet, but deep gray clouds filled the sky and cast a dreary somber light down on the world. It all looked so somber, so frustrating. It had rained apparently, the ground was wet. It looked cold, and he wrapped his arms around himself when he realized he felt cold, and shivered. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He thought about trying to get a blanket off the bed, but he didn't want to fight with the tucked cloth. He was in too much pain anyway, even standing and walking was difficult. Where was Zoro? When was he going to get back? He hoped he didn't get lost. He couldn't stand the wait if he did; he already couldn’t stand it. His anxiousness spiked and the blonde suddenly became half convinced that the swordsman was lost. Even at a time like this! He was still spotting blood from his torn up asshole, and that bastard was fucking lost! His teeth creaked in his mouth from the great pressure he exerted on them as he glared out the window. Tension wound through every muscle in his body, some even ached and burned in protest of such an action. Yet his frustration still grew, distorting into anger.

He had been attacked and raped less than six hours ago and he was fucking alone! Naked and pathetic, staring out a window like a child waiting for their parent to come home. Not that he ever had a real parent. That damned geezer had been all he had gotten. No real parents, no real family. _They_ were supposed to be his family, his nakama! No… he took deep breaths and tried to calm the storm raging with a vengeance in his mind. He was being unfair. His life did not suck. It was true he had no family, that he had just been a little orphan boy working in a kitchen until Zeff had stepped into his life. But he had saved him, even sacrificed his leg for him, was even willing to die of starvation for him. And he had raised him, taught him everything he knew, even if Sanji hadn't always been all that receptive. He had been given something truly treasure worthy in Zeff's existence. He took in a deep breath and released it. He was fine… everything was fine. His eyes heated, they burned with the coming pressure, and he grit his teeth once more, attempting to will the molten tears away. The pitiful fucking tears. He pressed his head to the windowsill, and gripped his fists tight in front of him. It was fucking fine, it was just fucking fine.

_Where the fuck are you?!_

He was fine. Even if he felt far from it.

The sound of the lock on the door turning bolted through the cook a deep, sharp shock of fear, and he jumped, nearly running from his chair despite the sharp tugs and burns of pain in his cut and bruised body. He jerked his gaze to the door, eyes wide with frantic energy as it opened and Zoro's head popped in. The swordsman looked over to him in a moment and paused, his eye growing concerned as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. He quickly locked it and turned to face the blonde, who began to calm into a quivering mess after the massive rush of adrenaline through a body was already fatigued.

“You okay, cook?” he asked, concerned, as he took a slow step forward. Sanji took a breath, and slowly, with a wince or two from the pain lancing up into his body, sat down on the edge of the bed behind the chair. He looked up at the swordsman, finding his will to speak was gone. He didn't want to say anything, he almost felt he couldn't. He saw the bundle of clothes poking out from Zoro's coat and the swordsman pulled the clothing free, and set the gathering onto the bed.

“I uh, didn't know what you'd want. So uh, I just picked out the usual black suit, boxers, white shirt and a green tie I found,” he explained as Sanji stretched his hand out and pulled the clothes toward him before pushing the shoes off the pile.

“I uh… didn't know how to properly transport them with the rain. And the others were there, so I was kind of trying to hide them.” The cook took a deep breath and willed himself to speak. He had to speak, to Zoro at least.

“It's fine. Thanks.” His voice was hoarse still, and a little shaky. Zoro nodded and walked over toward the other bed.

“So uh, you said you wanted to stay here tonight? I told them we were trying to do something,” Zoro informed in a mumble as he started to unlace his boots.

“So you told them, us two, who never do anything together, are doing something together,” Sanji whispered, and he caught the freeze in the swordsman's movements, the tensing up of his body from his bent position. Zoro couldn't lie to save his life. He was the direct sort of guy, or he said nothing at all, or maybe a couple words… or grunts. It was a little funny, actually. A short laugh broke unexpectedly from his mouth and Zoro looked up, looking quite shocked, and perhaps a bit worried.

“You're not pissed are you?” he asked.

“No. I shouldn't expect you to come up with a good lie,” Sanji said as he eased his way to his feet with his clothes. He left his shoes and socks on the bed, as he had no need for them, and limped his way to the bathroom. The biggest issue would be the blood spotting from him still; his boxers were going to be stained. He would have to throw them away. In some ways he was glad that his old clothes had been… he paused as a deep frown etched into his lips as his brows furrowed deeply. No, he did not want to remember. He didn't want to, not now. He felt a tremble move through his body as his face fell forward, and hot pressure boiled up behind his eyes. His grip on his clothes tightened as his heart suddenly raced in terrible force, his hands clutching the clothing in white knuckled fists. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to remember it. It was bad enough! But it was being stubborn, his mind was betraying him, wanting to show it all to him again. Sanji staggered on his feet, falling down against the sink outside of the bathroom. Zoro jumped up, the sound of one boot and one bare foot hitting the wood planks audibly. He was there at his side in an instant, though he did not touch him. The blonde took deep, measured breaths as the shaking worsened a moment before slowly subsiding, and then he was touched. Sanji paused, the touch was so soft, so gentle to his skin. The feeling of the thick, rough skin of the swordsman's calloused hands gently touching him, hands that were never gentle, and he felt all the energy drain from him. He sagged to the side, suddenly exhausted all over again.

“I'm just… going to wear my shirt and boxers I think,” he said as he dumped his clothes unceremoniously on the sink counter and took what he wanted. He eased fully to his feet and went into the bathroom, where he closed the door to change.

When he left the bathroom a few minutes later, he found Zoro dressed down to just his pants, with the blankets already pulled out from all sides of the bed. He was on his back on the bed with his one good eye closed. Sanji stood there a moment, looking him over. That scar over his eye, it was so thick and prominent. It must have been painful, and the healing of it must have been difficult. His eyes fell to the older scar stretching diagonally across the swordsman’s torso. He had been seriously wounded twice now, though, even these two scars he still believed were nothing like what happened on Thriller Bark. It was there, that for the first time since he had known Zoro, he had been scared. At first he had been sure that he was dead, and then he had been terrified that he _would_ die. There had been so much blood his skin looked like it had been flayed. And then at Sabaody, when Zoro had collapsed, he _would_ have died if he hadn't jumped in like he had. That stupid robot would have blown him to chunks of burned pieces of meat with that laser. The panic then had been so palpable. So bad, so sickening, he had felt _sick_. He had been so scared that Zoro would die. And then he thought Zoro had died, _officially_ when he had disappeared, struck by that Shichibukai's hand. He was just gone, and he had thought for those few frantic moments in the back of his mind, that he was gone forever. Dead, gone, no longer existing. Fuck, that had been so awful. He had not realized until that moment how close they had become, even if they didn't get along well, they were still close. And they still were. And now, maybe even more.

Here he was, Zoro was here. He was helping him, standing at his side even though it was surely troublesome. He was here, helping, caring, wanting. Sanji felt the molten lava in his eyes once again and grit his teeth as his heart started that painful pound in his chest. He did _not_ need this. He didn't need complication, he didn't need pain, he didn't need any of this shit. All he wanted, was someone he could relax around, someone he could trust, someone he could love, and pursue joys with. That was a dream he had wanted to fulfill with the right girl. Yet, Zoro remained, asleep already on the bed. He was not a girl, he could not relax around him, though he did trust the man. If he couldn't trust Zoro after all this, then he had a serious problem. And admittedly, he had never _tried_ to relax around the swordsman, _tried_ to get to know him on a normal, buddy level. He was always hostile, to all men, and he didn't even know why. Was it competition for girls? It certainly didn't matter with Zoro _now_ , especially if it were for such a dumb reason. Zoro had made it pretty damn clear that he didn't think of women that way. He hadn't thought on it much when Zoro had told him what he had dreamed. How long had he liked him? How long had it been? And he had kept it all to himself for however long, never acting, never showing. Probably because he hadn't wanted to be rejected, or worse. That was… a lonely thought.

He looked to the other bed, completely made and pristine with his shoes and socks having been placed next to it on the floor. It looked cold over there by the window with the gray clouds hanging low, and shedding their weight in rain outside the window again. It looked so lonely, so dreary. He didn't want to be cold, he didn't want to be there, isolated even more. He needed to be close to someone, and the only person he wanted to be close to right now, was Zoro. Only him, only he was okay. Sanji inched onto the bed, slow and careful as he moved forward and carefully lied down next to the swordsman. He pulled the covers up over himself and carefully got comfortable. It was warm, very warm from the heat of his nakama's body. And the chill, the chill he had felt when he had looked outside that first time, finally eased away within the embrace of Zoro's warmth.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was a struggle. He couldn't stop it. He had tried so hard, fought with a determination he hadn't thought he possessed, but the panic and fear was somehow worse than any battle for his life. Was it because he realized what that bastard had wanted? Was it when he realized he had been tricked by that woman? It had mattered so little, in fact, it hadn't mattered at all. He had been subdued, broken and… raped. Sanji remembered the feeling of those hands, of that massive body, the look in those eyes and the sound of that voice, the curve of those lips. It was revolting, it was enough to make bile rise up in his throat.

_Whose the bitch now, Black Leg?_

Sanji jolted awake with a sharp gasp catching in his throat, stabbing a sharp pain into his lungs as he bolted up, nearly throwing himself to the floor. Zoro snorted awake, surprised as he jerked a frantic gaze to see the blonde as he pressed his back tight against the headboard with both hands gripping at his head tightly. Both panted, hearts thumping hard as the cook grimaced with the sharp stabbing pains that came with each fast, brutal pulse of his heart. He almost couldn't even tell the individual beats as he grit his teeth and his eyes burned with swelling heat.

“Cook?” The call of his name made his heart surge, and he nearly jumped, hands flying to the bedding as he jerked his eyes over to find Zoro, sitting up on his knees on the bed. The swordsman leaned forward toward him in the dark, the concern in his eye somehow in stark visibility despite the blackness of the room obscuring much of the details to his face, rendering him as a difficult to see silhouette more than anything else. Sanji released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and a sudden buzzing along with the sensation of dizziness assaulted him.

“Fine,” was his breathless answer before he swallowed and spoke again, voice stronger in volume, but shakier. “I'm okay.” Zoro's arm extended slowly toward him, and the blonde looked down at the stretched limb, watched as fingers hesitated a few inches from him, not wanting to touch without permission.

“Are you sure?” Sanji nodded.

“Just… a bad dream. That's all,” he informed, forcing his words to come out quickly and with finality. He did _not_ want to talk about it. Zoro nodded, and retracted his hand from the cook's vicinity. The swordsman turned and got off the bed where he bent and turned the lamp on. The harshness of the bright light crushed painfully into the blonde's sight as he snapped his head away and squeezed his eyes shut. Sitting there as he struggled to open his eyes, Sanji realized that he was cold, cold and wet to be precise. He had sweat so much that when he touched his shirt he felt it was wet and sticking to it, sweat had even pooled between his clavicles. The creak of the floorboards under Zoro's weight drew the blonde's sensitive gaze to the swordsman as he walked through the room and across the bed to the bathroom. The chill grew stronger and Sanji shivered strongly as he wrapped his arms around himself and looked around; still the same room, still the same place he had fallen asleep. It was so surreal, unreal. He felt strongly disassociated with himself in that moment, as if he were dreaming, or that perhaps the entire day before had not been real at all. Just a nightmare… a horrifying fucking nightmare. But he knew, even as he shuddered, that it was real, that it _had_ happened. He felt the burn in his eyes and grit his teeth, wanting to will the compulsion away. The sound of the toilet flushing drew his eyes to the side of the room the bathroom was located to his left, and out came Zoro who walked back over toward the bed. Sanji looked up at him, frowning a little. He had _not_ washed his hands. Somehow that wasn't surprising.

“Do you want to try to sleep more?” Zoro asked as he sat down on his side of the bed and twisted his torso to face him. Sanji looked down at the blankets and slowly unwrapped his arms from himself, and took the blanket. Feeling the inside he grimaced, nose wrinkling when he felt the wetness of the sheets from his sweat.

“It's gross now,” he muttered as he dropped the blanket and hugged himself again. Zoro remained still, as if not sure what to do next. Sanji knew what he wanted to do though, he was drenched in sweat and cold from it. He wanted a hot shower. At least that was part of why he felt cold… and shaking.

“I'm gonna shower,” he informed as he stood up from the bed and made his way on shaky legs toward the bathroom.

“You sure?” Zoro asked and Sanji huffed.

“What? Worried about me? You wanna shower with me?” he snorted and immediately froze, realizing what he had done. That had been unnecessary, bitchy. He hadn't meant to do that. Sanji chanced a glance back, and saw that Zoro was sitting still, staring at him, and he felt tension crush down in heavy weight on his shoulders. Why the fuck had he said that?!

“Sorry,” he muttered out quickly and hurried into the bathroom, chest feeling heavy with guilt piling on top of everything else. Why the hell not, it wasn't like he wasn't already having a shitty day. He wanted that shower, and he wanted it to burn. And he wanted to hit something.

The shower lasted until the last drop of hot water was used up, leaving him under an icy cold spray. He hadn't wanted to come out, ever, he had just wanted to sit there and rot away. But he knew that if he was much longer Zoro would be banging on the door… the second time since he had gotten in. He knew it was great, that he should be happy that Zoro cared so much, and in many, many ways, he _was_ , but in some ways, he wished the guy would just leave him alone. He didn't want him gone, he didn't want to be physically, actually alone, but he didn't need to see that gaze, the warmth and affection, the concern in that eye of his. He wanted it, but he also didn't want it. And it was fucking frustrating. Sanji took in a deep breath as he turned the shower off. It was best to try and be normal, right? It was best to try and go back to how things were before. Even though things were not the same at all, he wanted to at least try. He hoped he could do it, though a strong part of him was certain he couldn't. Climbing out he dried and pulled his boxers back on, grimacing at the dampness. He pulled the door open and looked into the room. Zoro stood up and the blonde paused when he saw that the swordsman was fully dressed, and that he smelled of fresh outside air, rain. Zoro walked quickly up to him and the cook's heart raced painfully in an irrational surge of anxiety when the swordsman's arm extended, and he looked down to see another pair of boxers, ones that he owned. Sanji looked up and met Zoro's eye.

“I thought you'd be grossed out wearing sweaty shorts, so I got you another pair,” he informed as he raised his hand a little higher in offering. Another surge of anxiety shot through his chest at the same moment a weird sort of glee swelled up inside him, and he felt the heat burn and swell in his eyes. Zoro's eye went wide as Sanji's lips trembled with a complicated mix of emotions as he offered up his hands and the boxers were set down.

“You… went to get another pair?” he asked, voice tightening and trembling. Zoro's cheeks pinked and the swordsman grunted as he shrugged.

“Just, thinking,” he muttered and the cook felt his heart quiver. What was this? That fucking asshole.

“You okay?” Zoro asked and Sanji hesitated a moment before he nodded and sniffled through the snot that was starting to seep due to the heat he felt building up in his body. The worst fucking twenty-four hours of his life, and at the same time he had gotten the most fucking sweet gesture from the most unexpected person. Sanji hugged the clean and dry material to his chest as he turned and went back to the bathroom to change, doing his best to keep his damned emotions in check while hoping he could calm down before he embarrassed himself further. What was wrong with him? What was with the sudden sensitivity? No, he was in a sensitive state right now. And he was swinging through his emotions like crazy because of it. That was it, and really, he _needed_ this kindness, he needed to feel like someone really cared, that someone was there for him. He couldn't believe how momentarily blessed he felt, despite the ghastliness of what had happened. And he realized, it made him want to be near the swordsman all the more. Suddenly, he didn't want to be left alone as he had felt in the shower. He wanted Zoro right there, right near him.

When Sanji managed to collect himself and change, he came out to find Zoro throwing a blanket over the bed. Looking over to the other bed, he noted the bundle of blankets and sheets on it, probably the ones he had sweat in. Oh, fuck. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Sanji gripped his face with his right hand, feeling his overly sensitized and easily stimulated emotions surge strongly through him as his teeth grit, and the tendons in his neck stood to strong definition. Oh fuck, oh fuck. He had to calm down, he had to not be so swayed, he had to not cry!

“Cook?” Sanji twitched, but did not want to look up, not when he felt the water in his eyes. Shit. He was being a crybaby. Fuck, his life was fucked up.

“There will still be a few hours until sunrise. You wanna… sleep more?” Zoro asked, voice trepid and soft. Honestly, Sanji felt too riled, but at the same time, he was exhausted. Maybe he could try, maybe he could try to sleep instead of dwelling on how fucked his day had been, how ruined it all felt, about how Zoro's kindness was effecting. Hopefully, he wouldn't have another nightmare, the prospect of which was enough to make him want to never sleep again. But, all the same, his body still felt heavy and worn out. And as he calmed from the strong surge of emotions and tempered them down, he felt his shoulders sag a little. Wordlessly, and without looking up, Sanji made his way to the bed and crawled in with his back toward the swordsman as he pulled the covers up. It was silent a long moment, but then he heard Zoro getting his boots off, and then a minute later the mattress was moving as the larger man got on and got comfortable. This was fine, he was fine. And he was glad, that Zoro wasn't bringing up his decision to sleep in the same bed; this too was a kindness, and it made his heart swell in his chest as he gripped his hands into the freshly changed pillow. But then again, Zoro never really seemed to care about stuff like that. Though, because it was _him_ , because _he_ always made such a big deal about these things, because he was always such an ass… it would have been well within Zoro's right to be surprised, and _say_ something. But context… context changes everything.

“Are you comfortable? Need anything else?” Zoro's voice right near his ear nearly tore a gasp from Sanji's throat as his heart raced and pulsed painfully with more anxiety. Heat suddenly filled him up and he could feel dampness form on his skin in just a second. Sanji burst up and got off the bed before he leaned against the wall in front of the bed with his forearm. Clutching his his hand over where his heart raced, he tried to control his breathing, tried to get to rhythm, but it was difficult and painful. He had to _calm down_. He was _fine_ , everything was fine. He had just been surprised. He was fine, everything was _fine_. He was _safe_ , he was _okay_. Fine, everything was _fine_. The attack eased and he moved just slightly to look over his shoulder. Zoro sat in bed still, back straight and eye wide, and the look on his face… oh fuck. Sanji's heart raced again and he turned away as he rest his head against his forearm. That look… fuck, Zoro look so surprised, so… he could see the guilt in that eye, the regret in the lines of his face.

“Cook, I'm-”

“It's… okay,” Sanji breathed, attempting to calm himself again as hot pressure built up behind his eyes in frustration. This wasn't fair.

“It's not your fault,” he panted. He could feel the flush his entire face had become because of the racing of his damn heart. He wasn't in danger, he was safe, but his damn body couldn't tell the difference. Another few long moments, so long that when he found himself calm again, and he moved, his back and neck ached with the threat of stiffness. Slowly, Sanji turned and looked at Zoro, who still remained sat up, watching him. He looked mostly calm, but he could tell the look of disappointment fouling his face. It was not disappointment in him, Zoro was disappointed in himself. And all Sanji wanted to do, was just cry. He felt acutely in that moment, that everything was ruined. He was ruined, he was fucking broken; he could never go back to how he had been before, to how things had been before. He staggered toward the bed and collapsed onto it, wanting nothing more than to suffocate into it. He needed Zoro, he knew he did. Slowly, his hand crawled up the bed as he pressed his face into the blankets, trying to keep himself from crying. His hand reached the rise of the blankets covering Zoro's legs and then, with caution, he felt the swordsman's fingers gently craze the top of his hand. Sanji snatched the thick fingers and grabbed, and Zoro's hand slid into his own, sealing them together. And then, Zoro said something, something he had not expected at all. And in some ways, maybe it was supposed to be inappropriate given the situation, he wasn't even sure. But those words caused some sort of catastrophe within him. Yet, it wasn't bad, he didn't even know what it was. Was it relief? Was it happiness? Was it stress? But with those words, he broke apart, raw and molten, and sobbed, wailed into the blankets, the sounds muffled, his face hidden, but his soul exposed.

“I love you.”

Sanji couldn't tell what those words meant to him, he couldn't understand the torrent of emotions shooting through him chaotically because of them. But he _knew_ those words were _powerful,_ somehow. Maybe... maybe he needed them.


	2. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were going to try to go back to normal, whatever _normal_ was anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new chapter is now out! I really hope that it's liked. And I want to thank everyone that has shown support on this work through comments and kudos. The comments were very encouraging, especially with how things had been going for me at the time. Thank you so much everyone! It really meant a lot! Anyway, I hope this new chapter is liked.
> 
> I do not own One Piece or any of its related materials.

Sanji shifted from the warmth that he had found himself waking in. It took a moment for clarity to return. He twitched, and the body he realized he was nestled against, partly in the lap of, shifted as well. That's right. After he had sobbed for however long it had been; it felt like it had been forever, or maybe it had been short, he couldn't tell. But Zoro had tugged on his squeezing hand and he had looked up, eyes red and swollen with a face to match. He had not exactly been thinking, not at all, but he felt the tug and he slowly crawled up the bed and sat against Zoro, who had responded with a soft grunt. After that, Sanji had gotten himself comfortable even though his body was only half on Zoro's lap, and he had stuck his nose against the man's neck. And then he just stopped, stopped moving, stopped thinking, stopped everything but the involuntary actions of life, and fell right asleep.

There was a sigh and Sanji shifted once more as the realization of what their position was, sunk in, and he sat up straight. Zoro grunted and their eyes met.

“Feel better?” the swordsman asked and Sanji paused, his heart suddenly rushing painfully in his chest as his eyes quickly burned. He quickly looked away and closed his eyes tight a moment, willing the burning away, and when he felt in control of the sudden surge of emotion, he looked back to the swordsman.

“Sorry about… you know.” Zoro shrugged it off.

“It's okay. I don't mind. Whatever you need,” he answered and Sanji frowned. He moved back and sat on the bed to face Zoro. It was quiet a moment, and he looked around. It was still dark out?

“How long did we sleep like that?” he asked. Zoro looked to him a moment, and then reclined back.

“It's only been about a half hour,” he said and Sanji froze, disbelief opening up in his features.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You just… sorta passed out for a bit. Surprised me, I was worried. But, you were fine, so I made sure not to move... 'till you woke up,” he explained and the blonde felt his cheeks burn a little. Shit, that was embarrassing.

“Oh… damn.” Sanji then looked to his side of the bed.

“You still wanna try sleeping?” Zoro asked and the cook felt his heart twist in anxiety again, but he swallowed it down and took a slow, deep breath. This had to have been the longest night of his life.

“Y-yeah,” he answered, voice wavering in the throws of an adrenaline surge. Zoro moved then, and pulled the blanket back on the blonde's side of the bed. Sanji eyed the spot a moment before he moved his way over and, despite the difficult racing of his heart that drew frustration to the forefront of his mind, lied down. The bed jostled a little with Zoro lying down as well, and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw the swordsman getting comfortable on his side of the bed… a good distance from his backside. No doubt, Zoro would not get close to him again. The thought, that he had inadvertently chased the one person that he wanted close... away, was painful, and his heart twisted up into knots in his chest again. Sanji gripped the blanket tight and grit his teeth as his heart pounded maddeningly in his chest; he wished he could say something, but he didn't think he could actually speak, let alone articulate without appearing weak. Not that he wasn’t excelling at that already.

“Try to get some rest cook, I'll be here if you need anything.” And the room fell into darkness when the light was turned off. Sanji remained still, every muscle tense, feeling every bit of the emotion and physical crush of his day bowling him over, suffocating him. He wanted to move, to run, to fight; he wanted to be closer to Zoro, yet for some reason he could not speak, he could not move. He felt immobile, pinned, trapped. Sanji remained on his side, stiff and frustrated, and wishing that the day could have been redone, anything, anything at all, to save him from this hell. And his eyes wet as the ache in his heart dug in deeper. When was this going to be over?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He had not slept. Not at all. Sanji had found his mind running in circles, trying not to dwell, but dwelling all the same. In the end he spent a frustrated and stiff night, unmoving, wishing to move, and wishing that dawn would come already. It was so hard, to keep his mind from going to certain places, and it was torturous. When Zoro finally woke, Sanji allowed himself to move, and the pain of stiffness assaulted every muscle he had ever known of, and perhaps some he had not. Zoro gave a large yawn, stretched, and then sagged onto his back for a moment as the blonde struggled to sit upright.

“You sleep okay?” Zoro asked and Sanji gave no indication as he sat with his back to the swordsman. He didn't have the energy to lie, but he did not want to tell the truth either.

“Fine,” he said as he stood up, attempting to loosen excruciatingly sore muscles while he made his way to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Sanji washed his face, relieved himself, and started the shower, for the first time, with the sole intent of cleaning himself and soothing his body, rather than curling up on the floor and being miserable.

He felt... oddly numb. Perhaps it was from exhaustion. But Sanji just felt... numb. Nothing felt real, nothing felt right. It was as if he were nothing more than a ghost, moving through the world, ethereal. Or maybe possessing a body and life that was not his own. It was strange, it felt like what had happened had not been more than a few hours ago, yet it also felt a whole world away. Sanji climbed into the shower and stood under the hot spray with his head down. Maybe, maybe it would be easier to go back to normal, whatever normal was anymore. Zoro popped into his head and he felt his heart surge in his chest a moment as his cheeks flushed. Fuck, he was still embarrassed, but also very touched by the swordsman's kindness. Without a doubt, if not for Zoro, he knew he would not be as he was then. He was sure he would have been worse somehow, obliterated.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Zoro sat up and dressed before deciding to sit on the edge of the bed while listening to the cook shower. He couldn't help being suspicious, about the blonde's answer of 'fine'. He could tell from the tremble, the tightness in the cook's voice that his night had not been 'fine'. He wondered if the chef had, had nightmares, or maybe... maybe he hadn't been able to sleep at all. Zoro's heart sank and he frowned deeply as his brows furrowed together. Shit. He had been snoring away and the cook had been upset all night, whether he had been having nightmares or simply not slept didn’t matter. Dammit. He had abandoned the cook to solitude at a time when he most certainly didn't want or need it. Zoro tightened his hands into fists over his lap from where he sat and bowed his head in shame.

The shower turned off and Zoro looked to the side of the room the bathroom was on, waiting anxiously for the blonde to emerge. It took a bit, which wasn't easy with his sudden urge to see the cook. When Sanji did emerge, Zoro's heart almost stopped. The chef was fully dressed, he hadn't even seen him take any clothes in with him. But he stood, dressed in a black suit and with the green tie he had found, and currently adjusted the button on his cuff. He looked fucking amazing. Zoro hadn't ever really thought on it until he met Sanji, but damn did suits look sexy, especially on the cook. The chef looked... _normal_ , though when the blonde looked up and their gazes met, Zoro could see the tiredness in his eyes, which didn't include the prominent bags under them. His heart twisted in his chest as he stood, suddenly feeling awkward and not knowing what to do or say despite having wanted to see the cook as soon as possible.

"Ready?" Sanji asked, his tone flat. Zoro felt his heart drop into his stomach. That was... so cold. He felt his throat tighten, he wanted to say something, but there was really nothing to say. He had no right to bother the cook, he just needed to be supportive. He was sure that Sanji was doing everything he could, just to be there, standing, being _normal_. It was awkward a moment, and Zoro could tell that the cook noticed it too. He slowly nodded and relaxed his body.

"Okay," he answered. Sanji nodded and started across the room toward where his shoes were still located by his unused bed. Zoro walked over and grabbed his swords and slid them home at his hip. By the time he turned, the cook was finishing up, and in a moment stood from the edge of the bed.

"So, ready?" he asked again, and again Zoro nodded. Sanji nodded to himself once more as well, and they both started for the door, though Zoro lagged behind the chef by a couple feet. The walk through town was eerie, as if he were in a dream. The day before, the entire night, it still clung to him, yet at the same time, none of it felt real. But the heavy pressure in his chest as he looked at the cook's back... told him it was all real. Those visions he'd had, they had been real. It was so bizarre, why did he have those visions? He had never before had such an ability.

"Zoro!" Zoro tensed and stopped, realizing he had been about to walk right into the cook. The blonde was facing him, scowling intensely at him and the swordsman felt his heart flip in panic. What did he do? What?

"Stop spacing out, idiot," Sanji snapped and Zoro grunted, a brief sting of irritation hitting him.

"What?" he asked, voice a little terse. Sanji crossed his arms, looking irritated.

"I was _asking_ if you were hungry!" he growled and Zoro felt his mood drop. Oh... right. He looked over and saw a fruit stand. He reached into his pants pocket and produced a few berries. It wasn't much, Nami still wouldn't give him much money at all... and the cook's had been.... stolen... when his clothes had been taken. Probably as some fucked up trophy.

"I got enough for some fruit," he said and the blonde grunted as he started toward the stand. Zoro watched him go a moment, watching the way the cook walked. He was doing a really good job hiding it, but he had a limp in his step. Zoro wondered, how much pain he was in. Was it a lot? Or was it just mild?

Zoro followed the cook up to the apple stand and watched as the blonde searched through the fruit with his eyes alone, inspecting and looking for the best ones. The stand was pretty fragrant, so the apples were sure to be good. And then his hand went in, expertly picking out two particularly vibrant red ones, and when he brought them up to his nose to smell, Zoro could smell how damn well fragrant they were. Sanji smiled then at the older man and looked to the swordsman. Zoro handed over the berries for the apples and the man thanked them before Sanji held one out for him. He stared at the blonde's hand a moment, looking at how his longer fingers curled around the shiny red surface of the apple, before taking the apple and the two started off as they bit into their fruity morsels. It was good, of course the cook would pick the absolute best of the bunch. Zoro looked up at the sky a moment, it was clear aside from a few thin stretches of white over blue. The sun was bright and it was pleasantly warm. It was like the day before had been a bad dream. It was a damn shame it wasn't.

The walk was silent as Zoro lagged behind the cook, but he still kept close. The blonde said nothing, just walked. He didn't react to the women around him either, Zoro wasn't even sure he was smiling.

"Authentic goods for cheap prices due to overstock!" Zoro stopped and looked to where the voice had come from to his left. It was a small shop with it's door open and a man standing next to it.

"We got everything you could possibly need or want!" The man noticed Zoro. "You sir! We've got loads of stock taken off of the hands of stores that were overstocked! We've got great prices on every item! Even swords!" He stared a moment, and then glanced back to the cook. He had stopped walking, but wasn't looking at him. Zoro felt his heart pulse when he realized something, and decided to cautiously take a step toward the shop. He glanced back at the cook, wondering if it was okay to go in. But Sanji was just standing there, unmoving. Zoro's brows furrowed and he decided to step in. He would be quick, really quick, so that the cook wouldn't be waiting long.

Inside, Zoro meandered through the short, couple isles there were. They were crammed full of items, which made it difficult to find what he was looking for when he was in a hurry. He highly doubted anything would be cheap enough with the few berries he had left after the fruit, but it didn't hurt to look. And then he remembered the item was always put near the register. Zoro made his way and felt his lips tug into a small, happy smile as he walked up to the neat rows of lighters. The cook had, had a real nice one. There were some really nice ones, but they were too expensive, and the swordsman's lips flattened out.

"You lookin' for a lighter? We've got lots of styles and types," the man at the counter said. Zoro looked into his weathered, broad face.

"It's okay. I don't have enough for'em," he said. The man nodded once. Zoro turned from the counter when another, older, shaky voice called out to him, feminine in sound. He turned to find an old woman behind him. She stood, back bent and wiry in frame. She was dressed for cold weather despite the pleasant weather, and her gray hair was pulled into a bun atop her head.

"Are you looking for a lighter?" she asked.

"My friend lost his recently and I was looking," he explained and the old woman nodded as her shaky, bony hand reached into her coat pocket. Her hand reappeared with a glistening lighter. Zoro felt his heart beat faster as he stood still. Was she giving him a lighter?

"This used to be my husband's. He passed away a few months ago. I was thinking of holding onto it, but, sometimes giving something away to someone in need is just as rewarding. It makes more connections, you know? It brings more kindness into the world." The woman prattled a moment before her hand extended out and Zoro offered out his own; his hand looked so large compared to her own. The lighter dropped into his palm and he slowly wrapped his fingers around it.

"Now take good care of it!" the woman said as she turned from him and went back into the little isles in the store. Zoro stood a moment, feeling the lighter in his hand. He'd just been given charity... because he was poor. But then, a smile curved his lips. It was indeed kind, and generous. He turned toward the door and looked at the lighter. It was gold, and it had some sort of organic, flowery etching, and in a couple points there were little green stones. It was nice, felt heavy and sturdy. It looked like the type the cook liked to use, the ones where the lid flipped up, and with a simple push of a button a big flame came up. Zoro smiled and stepped out of the store only to come to a stop, smiling dropping when he realized that something was in his way. He looked up, and the cook was there. Their eyes met, and the blonde looked down at what was in his hand. Zoro offered out the little device.

"It's for you," he announced. The cook stared at it a long moment from where he stood, not moving. But then finally, as the moment grew more and more tense, he reached and picked up the lighter. The tension eased as the chef maneuvered it through his fingers with expertise and flipped the lid up before pushing down on the button and producing a big flame. The tension returned, and Zoro stood, feeling awkward before the blonde looked up at him again from the lighter. There was a gleam in his eyes, and Zoro could not tell at all if it was bad or good. There was a soft tremble in the hand that held the lighter before the chef quickly, slipped the item into his breast pocket.

"Thanks," he stated, voice terse, but there was a tremble of emotion. The cook turned from him and started walking again, and Zoro followed after the blonde, feeling relieved that the cook seemed to appreciate the gift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was so... nerve wracking. He felt it sharply, the moment he saw Sunny at the docks. The anxiety hit without mercy and Sanji stopped in his tracks. His legs were frozen solid, he wasn't sure he could move them to take him one step closer. The previous morning he had been here, things had been so normal, so good. He had made breakfast, had treated the ladies to their specialties he preferred. And then they had all disembarked, going to do whatever each wanted. Sanji felt Zoro at his side and glanced to his right to see that the swordsman had stopped as well, looking up at The Sunny. That's right, things hadn't been quite normal. Zoro had _known_ what was going to happen to him. That was why he had been right there, following him off the ship and had attempted to go shopping with him. He had gotten irritated that the swordsman was hanging around and they had fought. Sanji felt a most painful twisting in his heart as it beat, almost awkwardly. It was his own fucking fault. He had driven Zoro away... _again_. He was always driving Zoro away. Always.

"You ready, cook?" Zoro asked and Sanji felt a strong surge of pulsing in his heart and grimaced in pain. He suddenly felt so hot, so thirsty, so fucking tired. He wanted to do anything, anything but go back there. How could he face them? Sure, no one knew a damn thing, but _he_ knew. He knew what had happened, and it was eating him alive. Sanji nodded, the action slow and followed by a nervous swallow. Fuck, this was hell. Sanji managed to lift his foot, and it felt as though it weighed more than a ton. It was so heavy, it was hard to move it forward, and when he did, it felt like it hit the docks heavily, clumsily. His ass still hurt, and his back was still killing him, as well as every conceivable muscle that he had from his stiff night. His head was starting to pound, to ache as he managed another step, this time much more quickly. The weight on his shoulder sent his heart shooting off and Sanji jerked his eyes to his right. Zoro was looking at him, brows pulled up in concern, which was reflected in his eye. Fuck, no, that just made it worse.

"I'm fine!" Sanji slapped Zoro's hand from his shoulder and walked forward with a burst of frustration. He wasn't fucking fine, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't handle Zoro hovering over him like a mother hen! Not when he was already freaking out!

"Oh, Sanji-kun? You and Zoro are back?" Sanji froze and he swore, his heart about exploded in his chest. The throb was so physically felt in his chest the pain it caused was horrendous as he slowly turned toward the beautiful ginger. His world he realized then, was a little fuzzy, distorted. Nami's expression grew immediately concerned as she stepped toward him and Sanji stepped back.

"Sanji-kun? You're sweating," Nami pointed out and he felt his eyes tortuously burn. It wasn't fair! This wasn't him! He didn't want her to see, he absolutely could not have her see. She couldn’t find out, she couldn’t find out that he had been absolutely destroyed as a man, as a human. Sanji sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't feel to fill his lungs as he turned and... bolted. He ran, desperately navigating himself up the stairs to the bathroom; the bathroom he could be alone, safe from anyone seeing anything, learning anything.. Sanji found the door and tore it open, and slammed it behind him before locking it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Zoro stood, rooted to the spot in horror. What the hell had that been? Nami turned her eyes to him, her look bewildered. Fuck. He knew that the cook had not been wanting to see anyone, that he may be upset if he saw any of their nakama, but that... he had not expected that. He had not expected to see the cook absolutely shatter like that. Zoro looked up to where the blonde had run and felt his stomach fill with stress.

"Zoro?" Nami asked and he looked toward her. Only a second passed before the swordsman shrugged, attempting to appear uncaring as he started toward the stairs, following after the cook and hoping to look like he wasn't doing just that. Zoro paused at the bathroom door, knowing that the cook was inside. What was he to do? He was pretty sure the blonde didn't want to see anyone right now. Zoro looked toward the galley door. Perhaps he could wait in there? Deciding that was the better option Zoro walked into the galley and stopped at the threshold. It was dark inside... so quiet. There were no aromas of any food or spices, there was no enthusiastic noise from enjoyed work. There was no energy. It was a void, a dark and empty one. He wondered then, how the cook was going to feel, going back to his normal activities. How he was going to handle them. Already he was different, he hadn't even been a fraction as he normally was around the navigator. And no doubt she would be curious, and may even press him for answers. Zoro felt his heart twist in stress. That wasn’t good. Without a doubt, the cook wouldn't want that. Zoro wasn't sure which would be worse, having the men find out, or the women? He supposed in reality it didn't matter, but men could be strange creatures.

Zoro sat at the dinner table, in the place he always sat. It was so cold. So... foreign. It was so fucking awful. How were things supposed to get better? How was he supposed to help the cook? How was the cook to help himself? How could he heal? Zoro wanted his normal cook back, even the part of him that was a sexist asshole that was only nice to women and treated men like shit. Though, at least, when they were in danger, the cook always came to help. Zoro would never forget how the cook had abandoned everything, surged into combat to come to his aid on Sabaody. Zoro rest the elbow of his right hand onto the table and let his forehead fall into his hand. What was going to happen? Where were they going to go from here? What was this world going to be like? Without the snarky cook? Without his energy, his passion? His smile?


End file.
